


du är kär (you are in love)

by cinderlily



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 22:10:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3871552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderlily/pseuds/cinderlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The problem with breaking up (taking a break) from Oliver Ekman-Larsson, Mikkel quickly finds, is that he is freaking everywhere in his life. He’s got shirts, and shorts and hats and underwear for the love of Gd that is plastered with OEL, the sick little reminder that he couldn’t just call and rib him for being self obsessed. Couldn’t call to just talk to him in general.</p>
            </blockquote>





	du är kär (you are in love)

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the primer for this AMAZING pairing [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3202814) by the FAB SolarCat.

The problem with breaking up ( _taking a break_ ) from Oliver Ekman-Larsson, Mikkel quickly finds, is that he is freaking everywhere in his life. He’s got shirts, and shorts and hats and _underwear_ for the love of Gd that is plastered with OEL, the sick little reminder that he couldn’t just call and rib him for being self obsessed. Couldn’t call to just talk to him in general.

The other problem is that he’s pretty set when it comes to other shirts and other shorts, but the underwear is pretty much the only kind that fit him properly (Olie had made sure to make him some after the OELevator talk). It’s not like he can just wear Hanes.

Mostly he goes commando even if it chafes like a bitch and he hates it when he tries to work out. Body Amour becomes pretty much his savior.

“Okay, fess the fuck up.”

Mikkel is mid bite of porridge, staring blankly out of his parents kitchen window. He has a place in town but really, when you want to wallow, you don’t want to wallow in a place you have happy memories with the person who broke up with you ( _asked for a break_ ). Also, his mother indulges him with cookies.

“What?”

Mads rolls his eyes and waits him out. This wouldn’t work with anyone other than his brother. His brother who knows him all too well, unfortunately.

“I’m just a little homesick, I guess.”

Which actually… was true. Phoenix had quickly become a place he thought of as home, even without Olie. It was hotter than hell, and the way it kept such a weirdly tight light schedule made it feel like perpetual summer but the family he made in the team and in the community was home-like. And he did miss that.

“Bull-shit,” Mads sits down in the chair across from him, turning around like they are in some shitty cop drama interrogation scene. “You told mom your pipes froze.”

Okay, not the best lie. He hadn’t really been thinking the night he showed up at his parents’ house.

“I don’t know where your cell phone is, which means YOU don’t have it on you. Last summer I thought you glued it to your palm. So fess up. You screwed this up or did he?”

Reflexively Mikkel checked for his parents, who were nowhere to be seen. “No one screwed anything.”

“Oh someone screwed something,” Mads raises an eyebrow and Mikkel covers his face. There was being close with his brother and there was … his brother being a jack-ass. “Plus, think what you will but I’m pretty sure mom didn’t buy your ‘roommates’ bull either.”

Mikkel groans. This just keeps getting better. He wasn’t necessarily in the closet but he didn’t need his mom knowing that his heart was broken by his freaking teammate. That’s like Sports 101: Never fall for a teammate.

“Bro.”

Mikkel exhales. “It isn’t screwed up. We’re just on a break.”

“Like Ross and Rachel?”

“What?” he can’t stifle a laugh.

“Come on,” Mads shrugs. “Most channels have Friends playing somewhere. Plus, got you to smile.”

Glossing over the insane chirp material he’d just gained, Mikkel put himself back together enough to say. “It’s not even like that. We’re in different countries and he wanted a break. I went with it.”

“And you are obviously totally happy with it.”

“So what do I do, call him and say that I was wrong, a break is stupid and he’s all mine? Not creepy at all.”

“No, creepy was you two dressing alike and hugging in the airport liked it been five years rather than five weeks last summer.”

Mikkel rolls his eyes. “Did not.”

“Did too. Call him and say the break thing was nice to try but doesn’t work for you and now you want to fly to Sweden and do things your big brother doesn’t want to hear about.”

“What don’t you want to hear about?” his mother walks into the room causing Mikkel to jump in his seat and Mads to shrug.

“Meeks is being a brat because his boyfriend wanted space and now he’s moping.”

If the porridge weren’t a bad choice of food to throw at someone, especially with a parent present, he’d be starting a full on food war.

Lene clicks her tongue and sets up a teakettle to boil. “Sweden is 50 minutes by plane.”

“MODER.”

“Tut tut, get your butt in gear. I don’t need the whole story but your moping is starting to smell up the house, dear. I have book club in three days.”

*

Which is how, four hours later found Mikkel back in his apartment, his brother and a group of mostly familiar guys from forever-ago half drunk and watching old tapes and analyzing moves. It’s oddly comforting and even though he’s lost count of his beers he’s only feeling the familiar warm buzz under his skin.

“And Mads misses the shot!”

“Shut up, like you’d a made it!”

“Mikkel’d make it!”

“BULLSHIT! Tell them it’s not true!”

Mikkel felt his brother nudge his shoulder, he hadn’t really been watching but he had his pride.

“Hell yeah I’d have made it.”

Mads bumps him harder. “No love from the brother. I’ll show you tomorrow. We’ll go to the rink and I’ll show all you fools.”

“Ah fuck you, Bødker.”

“Eh, at least buy me dinner, Jensen!”

It devolves from there, to a drinking game that Mikkel doesn’t get the rules of which is not in his favor. All the boys leave but Mikkel knows Mads will be crashing on his couch so he throws a pillow and a blanket out before leaving for his bedroom.

His cell phone sat on the side table, woefully silent. Against his better judgment he used his thumb to unlock it and went straight to the text message with Olie. He scrolls back to find the mundane, the texts reminding one or the other to pick up milk or to remember the tape the other had forgotten. It felt weird at how normal it was in it’s entirety until the very last text.

It was just “ _ha en säker resa_ ” from Mikkel the day Olie left for Sweden. He hadn’t gotten a response then. He kept staring at the little blank box at the bottom of the screen, his blinking slowing down with alcohol and sleep. The last thing he remembered doing was typing “ _jag saknar dig_ ” and hitting send.

*

The next morning he woke with a sidesplitting headache but a bottle of water and some aspirin next to his bed because having a brother sometimes worked in his favor. After downing the water and using the bathroom he walked out to find Mads playing PS4 on his couch.

“Morning.”

“It is a great morning, isn’t it?” Mads says way too loud, cause most of the time having a brother sucked.

“How are you not hung over, fucker?”

“I hydrated before and during,” he shrugs, going back to his game. “Did you ever balls up and call your boy?”

The last thing he did the night before hit him like a wave, along with a not so tiny wave of nausea. He swallows the bile in his throat and went back into his room to find his phone still on the pillow beside his bed, plugged in and … with no response. At all. No missed calls or texts or hell even a tweet. He exhales and wonders if crying would be too much ammo for his brother.

He pockets his phone and returns to the front room with as much calm as he can muster. He flops down on the couch besides Mads and avoids any eye contact. Mads has the good grace to hand him the extra remote, backing out of the game and finding a multiplayer instead.

If he did let a tear go, no comment was made.

*

He kicks Mads out at 7, after they’d spent the day doing nothing of consequence and ordered take out for both lunch and dinner. He made a promise they’d do the skate off the next day when he wasn’t so hung over and that he wouldn’t “freak out and cry himself to sleep like an infant that night” (his brother’s words, not his).

There was a footie match on, two teams he didn’t care about but who could keep him distracted long enough. Some time he must’ve fallen asleep because pounding on the door wakes him up. He looks at the TV, where an entirely different game was playing and the numbers 10:46 flashed above.

“Freaking A, Mads, if this is you I’ll kill you! YOU HAVE A FREAKING K—“

He swung the door open to find a ruffled looking Oliver standing there, nervously switching from foot to foot.

“I don’t have a key.”

“Wh-what are you doing here?”

“You miss me?”

He wipes his face and frowns. “Of course I miss you, Olie!”

“You haven’t called!”

Mikkel grabs Olie’s shirt and brings him in, because even though he doubts many of his neighbors know Swedish he doesn’t want to have this discussion with listeners.

“You said we should take a break, Olie. I don’t know if your dialect has some different meaning but to me ‘break’ means no calls or texts.”

Olie put a hand on one of his hips. “I meant some time apart. We’d been in each other’s laps for 9 months straight. I thought you might need some air!”

“I didn’t need any air! I didn’t ask for air.”

“I didn’t want you to ask for it!”

Mikkel exhales, his hands on his hips and … laughs.

“What’s so funny?”

“We are fighting over nothing Olie. This is our first official fight and it’s literally over nothing.”

Olie smiles. “We’ve fought before.”

“Fighting over who gets the bathroom first doesn’t count.”

“I always let you win,” Olie takes a tentative step forward. His eyes flicked down to where Mikkel’s sleep pants slung low enough to see the scar from his surgery. Olie’s hand covered it. Shane had told him how much of a ghost Olie had been in the days Mikkel was stuck in a Canadian hospital.

Mikkel put his hand over Olie’s, and forced him to look up. “Hey, it’s okay, you get that right.”

Olie kisses him, hard, a hand slipping behind his head playing with the hair that was getting just this side of too long. Mikkel can’t help the smile and Olie pulls back when their teeth clink together. “How about no more breaks, yeah?”

“No more. Ever.” Mikkel nods, and even resists the urge to remind him that he hadn’t suggested it in the first place. He has more important things to do and that included pulling Olie by the shirt towards the couch as the bed is way way way too far from him.

*

“Oh thank fuck,” Mads wakes him the next morning. The blanket on the couch wasn’t that big, but thankfully it kept him just decent enough not to let his brother see his boyfriend in all his glory.

“Morning Mads,” Olie waves good-naturedly.

Mads waves back and then points at him, “We’re going to have a talk about you making my baby brother into a moping mess.”

“No, you’re not,” Mikkel glares and throws a pillow. “Get out. We’re busy.”

Mads puts his hands up. “I’ll tell the boys you had … a sudden bug. Stuck in bed at least all day. Maybe two.”

Olie dug his face in Mikkel’s shoulder, shaking with silent laughter. The door shut and locks and Mikkel laughs too. “Maybe we should make a move to the bed.”

“I am sorry, you know,” Olie starts but Mikkel pushes him off the couch and onto the floor with a loud ‘OOF’. "OW!" 

Mikkel leans over the edge and smiles. “Bed, Olie, bed.”

The ‘bug’ turns out to take the better part of a week. It is totally worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you thank you thank Sarah (saxhighlandck) who essentially held my hand in my sad anxiety over writing this. (I am lame, she is awesome. <3 <3) 
> 
> Title is from the Taylor Swift song I'm obsessed with and the Swedish in this is as such: 
> 
> ha en säker resa= have a safe travel
> 
> jag saknar dig = i miss you
> 
> (or so I'm told by google. I might be lied to. I apologize. Tell me so I can fix it?)


End file.
